


Southern Remedies

by nebulas (strawberry_bee)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_bee/pseuds/nebulas
Summary: McCree has some odd ideas about helping his boyfriend feel better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some of the weird stuff my girlfriend does, who is very proud of hiding their Southern roots. (It's okay i still love them...as Hanzo does his boyfriend, after a very long adjustment period.)

It all starts with a light sneeze, and suddenly McCree is fretting over him as if he’s about to keel over from the slightest breeze. He waves him away at first. It’s just the dust in the wind, after all. Throughout the rest of the day, Hanzo keeps up with the debriefings on their missions, even practices in the archery range. By the time he’s turned in, he’s sniffling, and McCree is looking at him closely. 

“You worry too much,” he tells McCree, before sneezing violently. 

“You act like it ain’t my job to worry,” McCree fires right back. Hanzo absently waves him away, ignoring his look of concern. Still, McCree insists on making him soup before he allows him to go to bed, and he thinks that's the end of that. 

Until he wakes up with a sore throat, shivering with all their blankets on top of him. He notices McCree’s sarape wrapped around him, and he tugs it closer around his shoulders. Hanzo is about to shuffle into the kitchen when McCree slips into their shared room, holding a bowl for him. 

“Hey darlin’, glad to see ya awake,” he says softly, approaching Hanzo as if he’s some wounded animal. Hanzo sits up, pushing his hair out of his eyes as McCree sits on the edge of the bed beside him. The sarape falls off one shoulder, and McCree reaches out to tug it back into place on Hanzo. 

“Thank you,” Hanzo rasps, taking the bowl from McCree. 

“You look better in that than I do,” McCree says, just as Hanzo takes a sip of the soup. He’s glad he’s only taken a sip, because he’s spitting it out just seconds later. For one, it’s too oniony, too watery, too...disgusting. 

“Jesse, what the hell,” he says. 

“What, that’s what my ma always used to give me for a cold,” McCree says defensively. 

“Your mother gave you onion soup?” Hanzo asks, wrinkling his nose. He sets the bowl down carefully, like it might bite him at any moment. “It's not even seasoned.”

“Well of course, it’s just some butter an’ an onion boiled together,” McCree says “I woulda gone ahead and added spices, but it doesn’t do much in the way of tastiness.” 

“You boiled an entire onion in water?”

“Uh huh, don’t go lookin’ at me like that, it’s just a homemade remedy,” McCree replies. 

“I think I’d prefer to get looked over by Mercy,” Hanzo says. 

“Aw, I promise I’m not tryina kill ya now. Just tell me the symptoms, and I’ll try an’ treat them,” McCree offers. 

“This is not ideal,” Hanzo tells him. McCree continues to look at him with that big, hopeful expression, and he lets out a sigh.

“Fine, but I have to watch you make it first. And I’ve got a sore throat,” He says. He makes himself get out of bed and follow McCree into the kitchen, where he settles himself on one of the counters beside the sink. He sits crosslegged as McCree bustles around, putting out ingredients.

“Uhm, horseradish?” Hanzo asks, watching McCree distrustfully. 

“Gives it a bit of a kick,” McCree replies, and begins to whistle happily. Hanzo wonders if he if he’s actively trying to poison him or not. He watches as McCree pours lemon, horseradish, and a generous amount of honey into a glass of water before stirring it all together. 

“Jesse,” Hanzo says unhappily as he hands him the chilled concoction. He stares into the depths of the drink, absolutely horrified. 

“Just try it, trust me,” McCree says. Hanzo shuts his eyes tight, and downs the entire thing, before he can think too much about it. 

The result causes him to lean into the sink, gagging. He curses McCree out between heaving. His boyfriend only rubs his back sympathetically, until he’s able to lean upwards again. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad!” McCree says cheerfully. 

“I hate you,” Hanzo mutters. 

“Aw, if you weren't so sick I probably would be scared right about now,” McCree says. He picks Hanzo up and carries him back into their room, where he settles him down in the corner of the bed. Hanzo has half a mind to tell him off for even presuming to pick him up like that, but he’s too feverish to properly convey how much he hates him at the moment. 

McCree stays with him until he falls asleep, rubbing his back and humming some long forgotten song that only he knew anymore. 

 

There’s a little improvement when he next wakes. McCree is beside him in bed, asleep with a book on his chest. Hanzo picks up the novel carefully, squints at the back. It’s an old western story, about a roguishly handsome cowboy and his lover. Hanzo sighs affectionately, for his boyfriend’s odd addiction to trashy romance novels. He leans over McCree to set it on the bedside table, before settling back down beside him. 

McCree wakes with a start once Hanzo wraps an arm around his waist. Without missing a beat, he shifts so he’s facing Hanzo, and brushes his lips against Hanzo’s forehead. 

“Still feelin’ a little under the weather?” He asks, brushing Hanzo’s hair back gently. 

“Yes. Your southern remedies have had no effect,” Hanzo whispers. McCree looks crestfallen, and Hanzo can’t help but feel bad. 

“I’m only teasing, I simply hate being ill,” he says. McCree smiles softly, and kisses him.

“Watch yourself, you’ll get yourself sick,” Hanzo warns. McCree only shakes his head and chuckles.

“I never get sick,” he boasts. 

“We’ll see about that,” Hanzo chuckles. And when McCree starts coughing and sneezing like there’s no tomorrow, he makes good on his promise. He even makes him suffer through some of  _ his _ home remedies, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> drop me an ask on tumblr at [starameter](https://starameter.tumblr.com/) c:


End file.
